Through the Fray: A Tale of the Luddite Riots by G. A. Henty (novel books to read txt) 📕

“Yes, Maister Ned,” Abijah put in, “and they say as you blew up about a thousand of them.”

“Yes, Abijah,” Ned said with a laugh, “and the pieces haven't come down yet.”

“No! but really, Ned, what is it all about?”

“There is not much to tell you, Charlie. The Luddites came and broke open the door. I had got several barrels of powder there, and when they came in I told them if they came any further I should blow the place up. That put them in a funk, and they all bolted, and I went to sleep again. That's the whole affair.”

“Oh!” Charlie said in a disappointed voice, for this seemed rather tame after the thrilling reports he had heard.

“Then you didn't blow up any of 'em, Maister Ned,” Abijah said doubtfully.

“Not a man jack, Abijah. You see I could not very well have blown them up without going up myself too, so I thought it better to put it off for another time.”

“They are very wicked, bad men,” Lucy said gravely.

“Not so very wicked and bad, Lucy. You see they are almost starving, and they consider that the new machines have taken the bread out of their mouths, which is true enough. Now you know when people are starving, and have not bread for their wives and children, they are apt to get desperate. If I were to see you starving, and thought that somebody or something was keeping the bread out of your mouth, I dare say I should do something desperate.”

“But it would be wrong all the same,” Lucy said doubtfully.

“Yes, my dear, but it would be natural; and when human nature pulls one way, and what is right pulls the other, the human nature generally gets the best of it.”

Lucy did not exactly understand, but she shook her head gravely in general dissent to Ned's view.

“Why did you not tell us when you came home to breakfast yesterday?” Charlie asked.

“Because I thought you were sure to hear sooner or later. I saw all the hands in the mill had got to know about it somehow or other, and I was sure it would soon get over the place; and I would rather that I could say, if any one asked me, that I had not talked about it to any one, and was in no way responsible for the absurd stories which had got about. I have been talked about enough in Marsden, goodness knows, and it is disgusting that just as I should think they must be getting tired of the subject here is something fresh for them to begin upon again.”

As they were at tea the servant brought in a note which had just been left at the door. It was from Mr. Thompson, saying that in consequence of the rumors which were current in the town he should be glad to learn from Ned whether there was any foundation for them, and would therefore be obliged if he would call at eight o'clock that evening. His colleague, Mr. Simmonds, would be present.

Ned gave an exclamation of disgust as he threw down the note.

“Is there any answer, sir?” the servant asked. “The boy said he was to wait.”

“Tell him to say to Mr. Thompson that I will be there at eight o'clock; but that—no, that will do.

“It wouldn't be civil,” he said to Charlie as the door closed behind the servant, “to say that I wish to goodness he would let my affairs alone and look to his own.”

When Ned reached the magistrates at the appointed hour he found that the inquiry was of a formal character. Besides the two justices, Major Browne, who commanded the troops at Marsden, was present; and the justices' clerk was there to take notes.

Mr. Simmonds greeted Ned kindly, Mr. Thompson stiffly. He was one of those who had from the first been absolutely convinced that the lad had killed his stepfather. The officer, who was of course acquainted with the story, examined Ned with a close scrutiny.

“Will you take a seat, Ned?” Mr. Simmonds, who was the senior magistrate, said. “We have asked you here to explain to us the meaning of certain rumors which are current in the town of an attack upon your mill.”

“I will answer any questions that you may ask,” Ned said quietly, seating himself, while the magistrates' clerk dipped his pen in the ink and prepared to take notes of his statement.

“Is it the case that the Luddites made an attack upon your mill the night before last?”

“It is true, sir.”

“Will you please state the exact circumstances.”

“There is not much to tell,” Ned said quietly. “I have for some time been expecting an attack, having received many threatening letters. I have, therefore, made a habit of sleeping in the mill, and a month ago I got in twelve barrels of powder from Huddersfield. Before going to bed of a night I always pile these in the middle of the room where the looms are, which is the first as you enter. I have bells attached to the shutters and doors to give me notice of any attempt to enter. The night before last I was awoke by hearing one of them ring, and looking out of the window made out a crowd of two or three hundred men outside. They began to batter the door, so, taking a brace of pistols which I keep in readiness by my bed, I went down and took my place by the powder. When they broke down the door and entered I just told them that if they came any further I should fire my pistol into one of the barrels, the head of which I had knocked out, and, as I suppose they saw that I meant to do it, they went off. That is all I have to tell, so far as I know.”

The clerk's pen ran swiftly over the paper as Ned quietly made his statement. Then there was a silence for a minute or two.

“And did you really mean to carry out your threat, Mr. Sankey?”

“Certainly,” Ned said.

“But you would, of course, have been killed yourself.”

“Naturally,” Ned said dryly; “but that would have been of no great consequence to me or any one else. As the country was lately about to take my life at its own expense it would not greatly disapprove of my doing so at my own, especially as the lesson to the Luddites would have been so wholesale a one that the services of the troops in this part of the country might have been dispensed with for some time.”

“Did you recognize any of the men concerned?”

“I am glad to say I did not,” Ned replied. “Some of them were masked. The others were, so far as I could see among such a crowd of faces in a not very bright light, all strangers to me.”

“And you would not recognize any of them again were you to